timeless
by Bom
Summary: Happy ending. As always, isn't it?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Standard disclaimer for the entire story: I, Bom, do not own anything aside this plot. If it sounds familiar, it's coincidental, purely. It was a thrashed Cotton Candy One-Shot from a long time ago and the author will now regret her deed of having done so… but she did beta-read it ;). It's the biggest plot bunny that has been bothering me. Kite Runner, Hana Yori no Dango and White Lily Principle had a _**huge**_ impact on it as well.

Summary: Hiromi loved happy-endings and Kai. Reality checks come, tearing down Hiromi's world one piece at a time. Time just seems to past them by, while one aims for a happy ending at all costs.

**timeless **

* * *

"_Has Hiwatari Kai ever lied to you?" _

* * *

**1.** _prince rides off with princess to the sunset… _

Sitting cross-legged and the shadows of cherry blossoms dancing on her face, her fingers toiled endlessly—plucking blades of grass from the ground. An abandoned tea-cup sat cold next to her toes. Her head was a chocolate cupcake with pink sprinkles and the sunlight flitted through overhanging branches on peach skin.

"…happily ever after," he read nonchalantly.

Her chin tilted upward and she beamed despite the lack of enthusiasm in his voice, "Ah that was a great story like always." Her hands dusted her bottle green dress of imaginative dust. She eased on a wide grin.

"Not really. I didn't like it," he said in his quiet voice; but not out of nervousness or shyness. "How do you know if the ending really happened?" Hiwatari Kai disliked speaking loudly out of his grandfather's notion; Kai believed that people who had more important things to say never needed to speak loudly. Only an impolite idiot would call attract unwanted attention to him by yelling. His grandfather, whom he respected dearly, barely spoke above a murmur these days.

Stationary, he leaned against the cherry tree; a gloved hand caught within his white wisps of hair and the other holding the leather bound book. Kai read Hiromi stories she couldn't for herself; what use did a little girl have for the written word when he offered the time reading to her?

"How do I know?" she echoed; a little bleated. "Isn't the prince supposed to save the princess and ride off toward the sunset? It happens in fairy tales, don't they? Like you had once said, Kai, a formulaic plot," the last word rolled off her tongue in careful precision. Scarlet orbs searched him for approval.

Expression pensive, Kai did not meet her eyes. "Hn. It's boring. I hate these stories. I don't believe in fairy tales."

"I liked it Kai," she defended but her voice quivered a little. She had faith in these things and Kai had noticed.

"How stupid." A smirk began to form in his lips though his voice was light and boyish, "But, girls are strange and are imbeciles so it's okay for you, Hiromi."

"Imbecile?"

His smirk intact, he spoke, "You don't know what it means? It's a common word."

She probed tentatively into his wine colored eyes, "No." If she felt the sting of his tease, her eyes did not show it. They flashed more in wonderment at the image of a magnificent unicorn decorating the front cover.

"It means intelligent. I'll use it in a sentence for you. 'When it comes to words, Hiromi is an imbecile.'"

She giggled, happy, as if it was a familiar and harmless taunt Kai had set out for her. A typical sweet, young boy teasing his female girl in the playground. How could she have known…was beyond him. She was unpredictable. These little occurrences he always felt guilty about later but somehow, he believed her heart could find itself to forgive him later on.

She pulled a folded slip of pink stationary free from some page of their book and held it in front of his sight. Examining the childish slosh and smudges of calligraphy ink, Kai found it difficult to overlook the flash of contempt in her eyes. "Can you pronounce this kanji phrase?"

A wrinkle formed over his young, aristocratic nose, "No."

"Ichi-go Ichi-e."

The boy looked at her curiously from the corner of his eyes. "Really?"

"Really, Kai-kun," Hiromi echoed, blinking. Naturally Hiromi would know; she's the 18th generation of the Tachibana lineage— Kai had wanted to point out. Oh, she couldn't contain her pleased grin. Kai was determined to yank her hair, "It means 'once in a lifetime opportunity'. Mama said it had a lot to do with our family."

"Hn," he said, disinterested, glancing up the sun speculatively.

She continued explaining anyway: "It can either mean, 'this time only,' 'never again,' or 'one encounter, one chance.' Each moment is unique and time is irreversible."

"Hn," he repeated, leaning over to rummage through his book-bag. "We'll see."

Few moments lagged between them in silence. "I wish we can stay like this," she managed with a small smile. "Mama will get better, Papa will be home more often, and you and I like this."

Kai had settled back against the rough bark. "Do you want this?"

"Forever."

"Hm."

It was mostly quiet and empty in the park, but a figure was approaching them not too far away. The face was indistinguishable but something about the unhurried stride and straightened back made it familiar and upright. Not to mention his lavender hair basked in the sun and the two men, in usual black suits, trailed close behind.

"It's time to leave," a man with sculpted purple hair gestured to the awaiting car— not visible within Kai's eye level.

Shrugging off the petals, Kai shot up on his feet and continued to dust his pants. He glanced at her from the corner of eyes. Shouldering his book bag, he whispered, "Boris is taking me to Grandfather today! He said he had a surprise for the whole family. Thanks for the tea!"

"Okay!" she nodded with excitement. "You're welcome! Next time, you can try Mama's odango!"

"Shh," Kai took hold of her hand and slipped a small pouch into her palm in a flourish. Hiromi covered her mouth with her hand, blushing madly at her sudden outburst. Flashing another boyish grin, he waved and trotted off.

"Wait!" Hiromi called to his retreating back now escorted by Boris into the sunset, "You forgot your book!" But he did not turn around to acknowledge her.

* * *

i.

"…loving, compassionate woman that Death did not take lightly."

"You're lying! She's sleeping!" Hiromi spat, pacing towards the podium where one of her family's closest friends spoke. They were in the reception hall of some funeral home, conversing and laughing as if the earlier events of the morning had meant nothing.

In one fluid motion a man shot up from a seat next to her. The entire room stiffened as he sauntered in suit and grabbed Hiromi by the shoulders, staring down at her.

"Let me go!"

"Hiromi," he hissed, pushing her backward and crouching down on his knees to let their eyes level.

"G'away!"

He abruptly latched his hands on the sides of her face, dragging her up to him so she could stare him in the eyes. "She's dead."

Every heart was hovering on one frantic beat, a record player that had gotten stuck and was repeating the same notes; over and over and over…

"I hate you!"

He froze.

"It's a lie! You've forgotten her!" Her saliva flecked her father's face as she shoved with two hands away from her; he finally let go of her shoulders. Her black sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, dress rumpled from disgrace, and rebellious strands of brown from her bun framed her small face, now red with twisted fury. That morning, the brown, shiny coffin, those palm bearers, the grieving chorus, fresh-cut flowers that were her mother's favorite…

She fought so hard all those years…

Kai had said Mama would heal, if Hiromi had believed.

"Hiromi…" his face attempted to form a stern look but failed; the congregation looked on in silence, Hiromi didn't turn to acknowledge anyone else but her father. She didn't need their pity.

Tears stained her cheeks, "You're lying!"

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not! She's not dead, she'll wake up! She always does!"

With that she turned on her heel, lunged for the doorknob of the mahogany double doors, and ran out of the room.

* * *

**ii.**

_Run. I want to. Run._

Hiromi wanted, more than anything, to open her mouth and scream to the heavens: It's not fair! It's just not fair! But her mouth betrayed her in its unwillingness to work.

Run.

Mama doesn't exist anymore.

Just run away.

Hiromi felt extremely fatigued as her feet pounded through the viscous brown liquid formed by the raging storm. She ripped the ribbon that held her hair up and let her tresses form clumps behind her shoulders. Black swallowed her petite body; her feet calloused by her shoes on the uneven concrete path and dress dirtied from the trek across the grass.

_Ran before you walked, Hiromi-chan. _

Run.

Far, far away.

She wrapped her arms around her body in an attempt to feel some warmth, but her blood only has turned to the consistent soft lead.

Run.

Trip.

Splatter.

Let someone catch you; tell you you're not too late.

"Hiromi."

A voice barely a whisper as the tree limbs trashed, the torrential downpour and the winds screeched down to both of them. A tall boy stood above her and stared down with heavy-lidded eyes, frozen from the nature. He let the rain penetrate past the heavy fabric of his black suit; the rain was just a defense after all. Like his words. His blue hair stuck to the back of his head, smoky white wisps of hair blocked his vision but he didn't mind. Sprawled on the ground, Hiromi was meant to seem ungraceful and beyond caring. In his eyes, she was still a princess.

He, beyond conscious, was sorry.

Tilting her chin upward, she beamed. "Which fairy tale did you like?"

He, for one, couldn't discern her tears from the cold raindrops. The whites of her eyes had gone considerably bloodshot. "Snow White."

It suited him; red eyes, snow-white skin and dark ebony hair in the darkness. In her seven year-old eyes, Kai looked older and attractive beyond his years. "_Wow_! You and my mother loved the same fairy tale." Her smile widened. "What a coincidence." Her voice lowered delicately.

A bead of tear dropped from her cheek to the collar of her dress. He watched on with deadpanned expression. His pale skin spoke of solitude; cold and barren.

"Mama loved it but… you said: the ending, that everybody knows, is a lie."

It hurt.

_As punishment for her wicked ways, a pair of heated iron shoes are brought forth with tongs and placed before the Queen__ Mother. She is then forced to step into the iron shoes and dance until she falls down dead._

But Kai had been scrupulous at omitting that little section, every time.

One step. Two steps.

"Why talk about fairytales?" he inquired in an even tone.

Hiromi lowered her lashes, veiling her eyes. "Fairytales are pretty but if you look closely, they're full of deceit." Her smile was a lie. His eyes were a fantasy. "I don't like fairytales."

Kai glanced at the cemetery, the quiet tombstones neatly arranged in fine rows, soaked from the pouring rain. His gaze swept over the wilted blossoms from bouquets of flowers, candles knocked over, muddied gravestones and—

"They lie."

--Hiromi's fingers puncturing the cold, wet earth, digging. Fingernails broke, blood ran from her fingers. Closing his eyes, he crouched over her frail little body. He did not want to look at her anymore. Her eyes held new, powerful emotions. He didn't want to witness change.

"She's going to suffocate! I have to save her! If only time can wait longer, if it can go back I — I…"

Abruptly, he lifted her from the muddy ground. She struggled a little in response, but—

--Lightening streaked across the sky and swelling clouds for a moment, effectively frightening her.

Hiromi was only a little girl.

She latched her frozen arms around his neck and pressed her delicate face against his collarbone. Arms gently wrapped her little waist while wind whipped at her black dress. He hunched over to shield from the wind; being a head shorter, she struggled to close the gap.

"Time waits for no one."

He could not find a way to keep her closer; she turned her feet in slightly, rubbing one foot over the other like a shameful child that both of them were.

* * *

"_Once."_

* * *

_Fairy tales are more than true – not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten._  
~ G. K. Chesterton

* * *

A/N: A child's biggest fear is being alone. Thank you so much for reading and please review your love/hate! Hehe!


	2. Chapter 2

_The sensei speaks in a clipped English tone to the Russian-Japanese boy whose gaze remains downcast to the tiled floor. He does not appear timid, but someone who possesses calculating wit before setting into motion. _

"_Hiwatari Kai-san, this will be your new class." _

_The said boy does not spare an acknowledging look to his fellow colleagues or the instructor, but rather scoffs privately. He does not appear like a boy at fourteen; he is taller than most boys, leaner—_

"_Hajimemashite, minna." _

_--and his voice is too _sultry_. _

_The brunette from the second row on his far right sinks in her chair and peruses his changed form timidly, watching the movement under his eyelids and his handsome face slightly contorting into distaste. A giggle stifles and burns in her throat and suddenly Kai glances up from his shoes and into her unchanged countenance. Her heart clips a beat and she shrinks back further._

_But there's a superior (confirming) look tossed from half-cast eyelids, as though she and him share a secret, and his sweet lips quirk upwards in one corner. Something settles in her chest, warm like nostalgia._

* * *

**2**. _…be fruitful and multiply… _

"…was God's command to Adam and Eve; to populate and look after the perfect world." The instructor made elaborate gestures with extended arms and a long neck with his blue eyes cast off dream-like to a hole in the ceiling. "Adam and Eve were used as common subjects in paintings when the human body was the obsession of experimenting and dissecting. This biblical tale had become engraved in our culture…"

"Was Russia too hectic? Overpopulated? Too cold?" No one could come at half-way through the school year and be unexpectedly famous in a matter of minutes except for Hiwatari Kai. Julia could hardly tear her olive orbs away from him.

He cast a blank look, "Grandfather wanted me to take change of a department from the business."

The brunette played with her red fringes, sea-foam irises bright and wild, "I assume that you are indeed the next heir to Hiwatari Enterprises. A very good match, indeed." A calculated nod followed that notion and she hadn't stop staring at Kai confidently ever since.

Hiromi chimed in: "Which one?"

"Private kindergarten schools. They're on high demand." His body then faced hers, and leaned over the edge of his desk. His disheveled hair created an effective wall on his left, leaving Hilary to read his lips and cynically averting his hard look. "The abbey had somewhat transformed into a daycare center that Grandfather had feverishly banned me from visiting."

At the mere thought of Kai, an educator, doting and meeting five-year olds and conducting their classes, made her laugh warm and bubbly. Noticing his eyes darken, her voice diminished into small forced hiccups and fingers flattened her pink designer blouse with the name scribbled in red. She had sensed Kai to be more finicky than usual and the way she plucked the skin off her cuticles didn't help.

"So, you ran away?"

"After I turned fifteen, I had dropped out of school."

"No way! I wish I can do that!" the girl on his left exclaimed. She had the same giggles as socialite girls who had drank too much champagne and ate too many mint macaroons but her words enunciated in perfection. All of this, although, did nothing to shift Kai's composed expression. Excluded and a little miffed, Hiromi could wager that Julia had pleased his subconscious because of aristocracy and its old family roots. Julia clearly had the Florentine businessmen roots and wealth while Hiromi had eighteen generations before her who were not sufficiently wealthy to be even recognized.

"I remember someone throwing a fit." There was a smirk in his voice.

On his right, Kai sat next to Hiromi in second-period art; a class taught by a man named Romero. The man had long hair of perfect blond waves who was famous at school for being a flamer. He walked around the halls donned in a beret, wore Oxford— sometimes— ivory silk shirts barely-buttoned up and black wool pants, and called them children. Hiromi had envied his blond locks endlessly and stared down at her own.

"It's unfortunate that you're stuck in my grade," the brunette tilted her chin upward, daring to meet his mauve irises and her contempt visible. Merely, the bluenette looked straight back, worry written in his soul despite the ethereal, purple labyrinth against the ivory skin. The blond instructor promenaded between their desks, quieting students down and an orange extension cord trailing behind him. Their eye contact broke when she shifted her neck to the side to wield a blush. "For your age, you can be in the twelfth grade by now."

"I'm finished."

"You've finished high school!?"

A ghost of a smirk played on his lips, "Second-year university, supposedly."

"Don't lie to me, Hiwatari."

"I'm not."

She believed him each time and instantly felt the anguish of her accusation. To her, Kai was human who had the rush-rush blue blood in his veins, built on a dream, a dream of becoming bigger, better. Hiromi's sighs became all shuddery when the flutters of his presence reach her. She loved it.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

Hiromi was mostly a dream, neither ethereal nor beautiful in twilight. She had dreams of finding true love, of cleansing the world, and reaching happiness. She had longed to create a perfect world but when she slept, her dreams were a vacuum. Nothing. Deep in her mind, she knew Kai hated her for being so intent in his dreams that he began to believe in them. Hiromi sent dreams, planted them in his head, and wreathed them in their silence.

The hand weighted onto her shoulder, "Hiromi."

"Aa. I…I'm sorry!"

"Stop apologizing, baka."

The lights' switch had flicked off and someone had pulled down the shades of all windows. Hiromi found herself gawking at the young man. Kai held a long unreadable stare and turned away. Hiromi frowned a little; he was probably disdainful to even grunt a vowel to her. Yet, she couldn't help highlighting his profile with her eyes: clean-cut and proud in the dark. That was how his world seemed to be most of the time.

Breathing out deeply, she scanned the projector up ahead and the screen. You can't put a bunch of teenagers in a dark room, show them Gauguin's nudes and not expect the sap to rise.

"Delicious," Romero remarked.

Determination flickered bright in scarlet.

"Does it gross you out?"

A scoff. "No."

"Oh, so it turns you on."

"No," Kai replied, haughty.

Hiromi squinted her eyes at him in the dimness of the room, he was probably lying. Kai-kun was a boy, after all, while she miserably masked her jealousy of those curvaceous women. "You'd look at this if I wasn't around."

He griped. "No." He cast an annoyed look at her, who beamed right back. She took his outburst as proof of his chaste persona. His grey orbs softened, "See you at swim club?"

This moment between them, they shared, breathed and she loved, felt more perverse than the disclosed female bodies before them. Inconcessus, lilting vowels rolled off her tongue once, was her love for him; like a sacred fruit from the Tree of Knowledge.

A blush. "Yup."

* * *

i.

Please. Stop it. _Please._

Withered and frozen she felt her hand break the surface, grasping at empty air and to the edge of the swimming pool. Wincing at her twisted right arm, Hiromi was still floating up; secretly yearning to go down, back to the darkness for it was safer that way.

"You poor motherless lamb." She didn't remember why her mother had passed but it burned in her heart.

As her body ordered, Hiromi gulped air down, and wearily glanced at the surrounding group of boys and girls, no older than she. Watched as she dragged her worthless self out of the water and onto the tiled shore with her less dominant arm and forced to wiggle like an inchworm on her side to keep the weight off her ribs.

"An easy prey."

Wishing she could pinch herself or something to get herself moving… Her broken body cried for help and her mind was the only voice she possessed. Perhaps if she placed herself in more pain, she would pass out and they'd leave her alone…then maybe he would find her.

"_NO..._"

Be quiet!

To keep her whimpers at bay, she bit her bottom lip fiercely until the coppery taste came. Why did she have to be so loud?

"Too bad she doesn't have Hiwatari-sempai coming to her rescue."

"Piece of shit isn't worth to save."

She could distinctly hear them chuckle as time was slowing down quickly all around…

"What, are you going to cry? Go ahead; it's the only thing you're good at."

Those cruel taunts lingered and beaten her pride to nothing. Knees buckling, she willed herself to stand upright and tall like Kai would and not cry. An instructor in his suit stepped forward and admonished everyone else to leave. "Leave her be."

After the wait, he hissed her name and pushed her backward one step at a time until she stumbled back against the wall. The building was empty, only calm waters, scent of chlorine and two souls. "Are you alright?"

Her face paled, "Yes." Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

"Good."

"I have to leave now." She said with great urgency and couldn't help but quiver at the possibilities of what could happen next.

She tried to smile as she recalled class that day, and how she waved her hand in the air for the answer. The answer she always knew without fail. Every word.

"Don't rush home. I'll make you feel better." Hiromi painfully ignored his words. Hot breath at her face, his lips against her neck and legs was so weak, she couldn't stand. But she was, pressed against her body was the instructor— a man, possibly two decades older, was familiar with a vicious lifestyle and a habit to shove defenseless girls around.

Every condition. Every point of conduct. She had never missed one.

"I… I don't want this. I have someone waiting for me."

The teacher managed a pleading face through his blind lust, "I want you now."

"I can't make Kai-kun wait—"

**SLAP. **

She paid for it later, sure, but it was something she was good at, right?

"_My_ pet. Do what you're told and please stay still." Her body jerks in response to his hand making its way over her chest, pulled the spandex straps over her shoulders roughly. Tears stung her eyes.

It was useful, right?

When the dizziness subsided, she could see in her mind, that handsome boy all alone on the pier. She did not know how to approach him. He had a clouded face and his hands were always in his pockets and always had his back turned on others, even her. She disliked it, the fact that he was willing to be so sad and lonely when he didn't deserve it.

Time was slowing down quicker…

The pressure was painful to her body and the way his fingernails dragged across her cold skin; his mouth ravaged hers in an instant. Back arching in repulsive response, the brunette stifled a whimper and the man chuckled. He unwrapped her like gift, ripping the paper away; eager to be pleased, entertained by her young blood. Ganguin's nudes flashed before her eyes; shame urged her to cover her indecent, broken body. She knew too much.

Time stopped. There was absolutely nothing…

She let her hands fall limply to her sides and knees give way.

She couldn't remember much after then.

* * *

ii.

Squelching, muttering and panicked cries…Hiromi did not want to open her eyes…

Curiosity dominated over her senses and it took her long seconds to absorb the unfolded scene…

Taller, leaner.

_Oh God… It's him. _

Ageless.

_He came. _

In his fiery power, the overhead lights had cast the boy a crimson glow that she had to be hallucinating. His boot-clad foot rested, tensed, at the base of the professor's skull, the man was facedown on the concrete floor. Eyes red, his breathing was heavy and hair stood on end. A gasp escaped her and his eyes rolled, startled, to her direction, but only glanced so she couldn't distract him.

"Don't look," he whispered and the professor she still respected begged for his life. Hiromi watched his calf muscles tense—

Her voice fell raspy; her body struggled to sit up. "Kai-kun! Don't…"

SNAP.

Hiromi let her eyelids fall at the sound of squelching and the killer's malicious chuckling— all reverberating repeatedly in the desolate walls, were enough to bring tears.

But he was even more horrified: he stepped away slowly, and directed his attention to her. She must have looked revolting, the way her swimsuit had holes and her flesh flushed pink.

'_**The serpent tempts the woman to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, telling her that it will not lead to death; she succumbs**__**…'**_

"Are you alright?" she probed quietly, sucking little blood off her bottom lip.

'…_**gives the fruit to the man, who eats also,'**_

"My god…" he sputtered, ignoring her words.

"It's fine." In vain, she covered her nearly bare chest with her arms. "I got my first kiss," she continued, softly. "I'm also not a—"

He knelt next to her, "You're delirious." Then his eyes fell on her neck and widened; his breathing quickened as he continued to look at her. He lifted her leg, and followed the lavender bruises climb up her inner thigh.

"I wanted it to be you."

'…_**"and the eyes of the two of them are opened."'**_

"Idiot. Stop that. I'm taking you home." he spat, ignoring what she said again. He quickly removed his blue jacket off his body and draped it over bony shoulders. The scar on his arm remained fresh to her. He had once said that it was his favorite number; this time it was clear: 87. Warily, he followed the direction of her eyes, and saw the pool of blood seeping under the man's skull. "I'll be careful."

She took the offer differently. A cough, "But-"

'…_**Aware now of their nakedness, they make coverings of fig leaves, and hide from the sight of God. God, seeing that they have broken his command by eating from the tree, curses them with hard labor and with pain in childbirth, and banishes them from his garden.'**_

"Shut up," he interjected roughly and slipped his strong arms under her and tried to cradle her. His touch felt as cold as the sharpest needles; and she writhed and twisted but he didn't let go. She could hear his disjointed breathing and his heart racing. Bolting out the recreation building, Hiwatari Kai, for the first time, was frantic.

She couldn't avoid the sickened notion any longer: "Are you angry? Do you find me as disgusting?"

Sinning was profoundly human. It was acceptable and a part of the human behavior.

He held her tighter, searching for Yuriy while the cacophony from minutes before replayed in her ears.

She will never remember, he concluded. I will make sure of it.

* * *

_She feels like Eve, tempting Adam. _

_They're both damned in the end. _

_She daydreams of a better place, an exciting future and unforgettable life story while he lives his life rooted on the ground and according to his destiny. It's almost a relief at night when she closes her eyes: _

_She sees them together, somehow, before the vacuum welcomes her in. _

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading it! I totally love this story of mine! In time, you will all understand what this is really about.


	3. Chapter 3

"_You have to kiss me, Kai-kun. Is that so hard?" _

"_Do I have to?" _

"_Yeah. That's how you play the fairy tale game."_

"_I'd rather die." _

"_You don't mean that!" _

Kai had learned to ride a bicycle when he was a toddler.

Hilary learns at the age of sixteen.

* * *

**3.** _He dies. She dies._

"He dies. She dies," Hiromi nodded eloquently; her index finger wriggled as a-matter-of-factly to see.

A wilted Kai grunted behind her, an indication that he attempted to cling onto her words. Donned in a black tracksuit—unzipped from the humid air—and a white beater, Kai found peace in the sounds of the metal gears turning and the irregular pedaling. They had very little effect in blocking out her voice. Sweat drenched his back and it frustrated him to the point where he preferred to drown in the frozen, Balkan Lake than die under an enormous magnifying glass. There was no shade found in the streets but concrete walls lining around each property. The roads were empty and there was no water— but the girl still had the saliva to talk so much. Absently, he licked his lips.

Damn heat.

"It's a Shakespearean tragedy done in five days. The first two acts are the happy times, love scenes and built up drama! Then the third act consists of few character deaths and the story's climax, which is Mercutio's death by Romeo. In the rest of the acts, the story goes downhill. I am so going to ace this English essay! Tate has to!"

"Really?" He arched an eyebrow curiously, but expressed no mockery in his grey eyes. He, for one, hated mind games (and Shakespearean gibberish) although he appreciated literature by Bismark. Despite Kai's cold persona and dry, scathing wit, he thought of mind games as rude to force people to think a certain way with manipulation and deception, half-truths and whole lies. Hiwatari Kai believed in honesty as much as he believed in honor and power.

With her red Converse heels grounded against the concrete, she made a full stop to further her point. Brown tresses swiveled over her shoulder as intense ruby irises gawked knives at the cycling instructor of that day.

So close…

"I've seen and read the story a million times. Of course, I WILL." She braced herself, brave but still dreaded and winced. It always mattered what Kai had to say (about everything).

"Aa," he said, flat. Flushed pink in the cheeks, a wave of relief washed over Hiromi. He believed in her. As she sat on the bicycle, it wobbled under her weight and slowly she began to pedal.

"Speaking of which," she twisted a stray lock of chocolate hair in her finger, "would you like to be my partner for the final project? It's a simple skit of a scene and memorizing lines with the minimum of seventy-five. Acting skills come as second priority, _of course_, Kai-kun. I know you have it in you!"

Her hands were clasped together in a prayer and Kai could sense a pair of hopeful mars warming his skin. He looked hard onto the little cracks and crannies of the neighborhood's concrete sidewalk, ignoring his peripheral vision…

"Hands on the handle bars at all times!" he ordered.

"EEEEKKK! OH MY GOD!" The brunette shrieked as the pedals scraped against her shins, cursing at her tendency to distract herself about Kai. Pause. "GAH MY LEGS!"

"Stop walking the bike."

Tears had already formed in her eyes like a lost, tired child (well, who wouldn't after thirty-or-so falls in the same day). Hiromi resigned into her childish demeanor, "I can't ride this! Let's stop this, Kai-kun! I think the hand brake's broken, my _legs_ are broken!" Under her skin, she felt the bruises she was sure to come in the next minute.

"HERE!" the boy stepped in and grabbed the handles, sliding one arm around Hiromi to guide the bicycle. Gently, he started walking the bike. The girl slowly began to turn the pedals, wide, probing eyes glued onto him, while he stared ahead. "I can't," he replied in a detached tone.

Her heart cracked a little but kept her smile lingering in her lips, "Why not?"

"I abhor Shakespeare," was his simple reply. "I don't like tragedies or believe in catharsis."

She retained a calm façade by glancing away from his strict profile. She did not remember telling him about the said emotional cleansing, "That's a shame. I mean, you not liking tragedies. Crying is good too. "

"Crying isn't meant to be 'good' or emotionally cleansing in the first place. It's a sign of weakness." Hiwatari Kai had never shed useless tears, unless Hiromi counted the times: when his father left, parents divorced and his mother died not too long ago. He cried too when his bastard of a grandfather—Souichiro, Kai said his name like spitting fire— planned to kill his father and practically destroyed their family. She saw Kai's unshed tears for Yuuya-kun too after he died from testing a replicated Suzaku.

Hiromi strained to remember the last time she cried: after Kai told her she wasn't cut out to be in the cheerleading team back in eighth grade (last year was a long time ago, Hiromi decided). She directed her eyes to the white, cotton sheet suspended from the sky— _maybe a silver lining_. "I like doomed romance tragedies— they're _tear-jerkingly_ depressing but romantic."

"Hm."

She shifted her eyes to him, subtle and hopeful, "What do you think of romantic tragedies, Kai-kun?"

"They're pointless," he replied, firm and decisive. Kai believed in his beliefs with great conviction. "They squander emotional energy."

"Oh," said Hiromi, eyes downcast. She somewhat missed the child-Kai.

"Eyes on the road," hissed Kai.

"You can't act, I bet, which is why you opted to chicken out on me."

Kai rolled his eyes, "Riding a bicycle and acting out five-hundred-pointless lines of Elizabethan couplets are two _completely_ different things."

"They are _so_ the same. Both actions require time, patience, energy, memory—" The brunette pursed her bee-stung lips, which completely threw off her instructor. That pout had to be practiced in front of store windows and had probably kissed a number of boys while he wasn't around. (Actually, he knew no one had kissed her, yet.) She looked lovely as the lady she had aspired to be. Yet, the same damn girl rode a bicycle with training wheels until her fifteenth year.

Disgruntled, Kai shook the meaningless thoughts away. "Just shut up and pedal, Hiromi. I am not holding onto you forever."

Pure instinct: fingers tersely wrapped around his wrist, "Don't let go! Not yet anyway!"

At the thought of both of them sprawled onto the concrete road and the girl's bare legs covered in scrapes, Kai hesitated to wring his hand away. He couldn't see the glowing time from his watch beneath her fingers.

"There, you got it," Kai, at one point in their silence, commended. The bicycle rolled steadily on its wheels as the driver pedaled evenly and the instructor strolled next to it. He took quicker steps and guided the handlebars to expedite the bike, which cowed the brunette in more ways than one.

Breathless, she pedaled to match his speed: "That's alright too. But at least help me with the lines…"

He stared at her and realized she was expecting an answer. "No."

Kai had probably better things to do; stand alone on the pier because firstly: it was a pun to his name and secondly: to get away, smelling of sea salt, oil and fish.

"Fine then," Hiromi scolded herself for sounding like a whining child. "I guess I'll just have to appreciate two-hundred fifty couplets on my own."

Her attention focused on the wobbling bicycle, not bothering to further their discussion. Salty tears stung her eyelids and her nose ran, causing the constant sniffles and her blotched red cheeks. Why did she have to cry? She was perfectly attuned to his rejections to her requests and his grating callousness at this point! If Kai did not want her company, why beat around the bush?

The sound of (automatic) wind chimes signaled their destination and Hiromi's cycling test, just as Kai had planned. The time **4:00 P.M.** glowed green in the black screen of his watch while Hiromi paled at its beeping alarm and the wind chime music in tandem. The duo stood the top of the incredibly steep, downhill slope that ploughed right through a railway crossing. Typically, it was a busy street but today, it was empty.

Kai maintained firm hold on the handle bars for Hiromi knew that struggling against it was futile.

"Go faster." With that, Kai had begun to run down, much to the student's chagrin.

She pedaled much faster, and the track-star Kai was running alongside her. It was going too fast! She felt the whoosh of air; as she gained more momentum, more breakneck speed. Despite that, Kai had full control of her and the bicycle.

"HIWATARI! Slow down!" The brunette screeched, "What if I fall!"

A cheeky chuckle escaped him despite his parched throat. "You won't."

"WHAT IF I DO?"

All of a sudden, Kai regarded her face with a soft gaze— "There are better things out there. You only live once."

"Kai-kun! That isn't comforting at _all_!"

He breathed into her left cheek:

"If you fall, I'll fall with you…"

— Which she feared she would never again see.

**i.**

_Black and white. _

_Drenched from the same rain. _

_She pulled her hand tighter around his neck, trying desperately to quell the violent tremors of her body. Shakes of fear and of the utmost pain, as the man _once, always, will be** loved**_ had dragged the carving knife across the road map of royal blues in his skin; somehow convinced he was killing the presence inside of him. _

_The culmination, the humming and screaming and crying of horror swelled to a din of many pitches in both of their heads. The funeral, the rain, the stories, the bubbling water and pointing fingers, and he dug it deeper. She quelled a sour note of the most terrible pain with cold tears cascading down her face and chilling his scalp. _

"_It's not your fault, Kai!" _

_He jerked the knife._

**ii.**

Kai had time to shout something along the lines of "Wh-!"— Perhaps an attempt to sound coherent or just an exclamation of horror before the bicycle careened from his grip. Moments later, he recalled frantically running after her… _the bicycle headed into the crossing._ Tripped— seemingly— on his own, Kai landed roughly on his shoulder and left knee first… before the bicycle swerved and collided with the road fence that sent Hiromi to the pavement like a rag doll.

He let out a cough-gasp as the impact whooshed through his body…and knocked all the wind out of him. Knees bent but slowly straightening, Kai fought the pervading vertigo. It overcame him, blighting his core sense of gravity and making him nauseous. Acid burned the back of his throat, just waiting. The _clack-clack _of the passing trains along the tracks and the _ting-ting_ of the warning bells fell deaf in his ears. Whenever he opened his eyes, Kai would see specks of orange and peaches, like confetti, caught in mid-air and he did not know why. He squeezed his hurt shoulder: he could only think of Hiromi- _where was she? She didn't die, did she_?

_Did she! _

Her limbs sprawled, faced-down, in a heap on the concrete. She did not move.

This did not sit well in him. Red flashed across his eyes and all he could do was to shut his eyes long and hard.

"_**Wake up. Can you hear me?" **_

She did not move.

He gripped his hurt arm tighter and focused on meaningless scraps that his brain supplied. He remembered how Hiromi slept like pretend-death in a game of Sleeping Beauty and the way Kai would repulse at the notion of kissing the lips of the pretend-dead that been youthful for a hundred years. He sought pretend-death over such option and the game ended in a disappointing draw every time.

"_**So you'd die than kiss me?" **_

"_**Well, it's not so much that. I…" The nine-year old boy looked at the young girl as her eyes spelled the earnest implore. "The Prince wants to be fair and suffer death with the girl he likes. He can't always save her." **_

"_**How is that **_**love**_**?" **_

Somewhere in the gears of his mind, Kai considered numbers; they count either up or down, and for age, both directions lead consequently to death. The pitiless sun etched away at his patience and his sanity as he longed to gape at his nightmare. He held in his breath, not to smell the blood in his mouth from fierce biting. He knew he couldn't take himself out of this because it was too real, it hurt—

"Kai!"

He hesitated.

"Kai!"

"_**I mean, I like you and I'd want you to live, Kai-kun." **_

And his eyes re-captured the empty road. Stood in the flurry of dust from the hot concrete by the rustling dry wind, and with crimson-shod feet, was the rag doll. Her voice was loud, frantic and _lively_.

She leapt over the dismembered bicycle like it had not been involved with her. Her big eyes, a few shades lighter than cherries, were so wide and unguarded that they arrested his rising anger and he simply stared at her. "Are you alright?" she asked when she finally reached him.

"…"

Gently, the brunette touched his hurt arm and he complied for her to examine.

"You took a hard fall," she muttered, watching him wince as she pressed onto a small spot on his shoulder. "That is going to bruise."

Crimson eyes moved skeptically over her body, "What about you?"

"Shockingly, I feel great. Unscathed!" she beamed. The brunette moved behind him to check for other injuries while the skeptic made cursory glances.

Then he noticed the thin trail of red down her skin, blending with her red shoes. "Stop!" he lunged forward to grab her arm. "You're bleeding."

Confused, she craned her neck to examine herself. "Where? Oh!" she caught sight of her right knee, which bore a deep, raw gash and was bleeding profusely. It looked ugly and painful.

"How could you not notice that?" Kai demanded, more in disbelief than annoyance. "It's bleeding everywhere."

"It didn't hurt until you mentioned it!" she snapped.

"You should get that cleaned up," he said, bending on one knee to get a closer look. Warily, she stepped away from him with pink brushed in her cheeks.

Like a mouse's squeak: "When I get home!"

Sighing, he hooked his hand behind her lower thigh and pulled her closer. Hiromi had no choice since she couldn't balance on an awkward angle for a long period of time. There didn't seem to be anything stuck in the wound, which was good in their circumstances. Still, Kai blew into the gaping gash and withdrew two hand towels from his pocket.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" Kai distracted her as he cleaned the blood off her skin.

Seething pain erupted in a hiss, itching for her injured leg to kick him, "… Kai-kun…that's not funny—"

He pulled her leg closer to his chest. "Recite the next line before I regret starting this."

"Ay…" she choppily said the rest, feigning gratitude in her voice, "Pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

"O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." Hiromi noted that Kai should have seriously considered the acting role; memorizing lines were mere tasks to him and he had natural talent. Busily, he wrapped the towel cloth around her knee, covering the cut and tying it snugly at the back.

Her leg quivered, "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake." Her voice was pure.

"Then move not," Kai said in a warning tone, examining the bandage and the rest of her leg.

"Okay," she answered the quietest word said that entire day. She shifted, finding her leg completely asleep.

He stood hastily, looking down. "Then…move not," he repeated and she stilled, too confused to name one emotion surging through her. He had deliberately broken the penta-metric rhythm of the lines, and her orderly mind translated this as disaster but a good one. Kai looked so into it by his intense glare that Hiromi felt instantly guilty of forcing him to practice lines. A wistful, sad smirk appeared on his face and it took enormous effort to slide his hand over hers. _I want to undo this. I want to undo this. I need to undo this. Only to you. Only to you. Only for you. _

"Juliet," he added quietly, raising his chin to look her in the eye. He tightened his grip on her fingers, biting his lip quite hard, unable to find his next words. "Then move not, while prayer's effect I take."

A shrill squeak of surprise echoed in the empty street while an approaching train sounded off blocks away. Warning bells clanged with flashing orange lights as the barring stripped fences leveled down to block off the roads from the tracks.

After all, it wasn't often that Hiwatari Kai, object of too many girls' affections' to count, grabbed a girl and crushed his lips against hers without a warning. She felt too numb to reply to this gesture, too rational to imagine even for a moment that this _was_ real.

Heartbeats became seconds.

"Thus…" he whispered in a growl, "from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged."

"Then do my lips now have the sin they took from yours?" Hiromi exhaled the syllables, her head heavy. Kai cleared his throat and his slightly pinked face was a telltale. Chest rising heavily and color high in her cheeks, she couldn't keep the stupid grin off her face.

"You were excellent." She placed her fingers on the sides of his face, "We don't have to die if we were Romeo and Juliet."

Gingerly, he moved them away with a forewarning squeeze, "Romeo and Juliet are fictitious characters blighted by love. No smart human would attempt to embody them, especially people like you and me."

Rejection slipped off of her like water droplets off a duck. His lips' touch lingered in her mouth and that only mattered. Her legs moved toward the direction of home, "Let's stop biking! I can't believe you just did that!"

Neither did he. He had said the first of his many prayers.

"Why don't you become an actor? Or pursue it as a hobby?"

"It's a waste of time and energy."

Because his ability to lie so well would be too obvious.

* * *

Kai learns agelessly that his biggest sin has damned him for eternity.

"_The game's over, Hiromi." _

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**A/N: Interesting. Thank you for the reviews! Thank you for reading up to this point, hopefully some love. :D**


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